


The Princess is in Another Castle

by thewildwilds



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Talent Swap, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Kuzupeko - Freeform, Romantic Comedy, Teen Romance, Teenagers, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewildwilds/pseuds/thewildwilds
Summary: How are you supposed to capture the heart of a princess when all you know are pixels on a screen? Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, Ultimate Gamer, thinks he knows the answer. Talent Swap AU.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a break from my FSN AU to write something lighthearted and fun. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> My lovely beta is back!! A million thanks to my beta arborgoldwine for helping me iron out this fic!

 

There aren't very many good reasons for Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu to look up from his video games. Hell, he can probably name them all on one hand.

His first interaction with a video game came as a means of distraction. His father had handed him the old Nantendo controller and told him to entertain himself in lieu of doing any actual parenting. He spent the next few hours glued to the television screen bopping cartoon turtles into submission while his dad smoked cigars in the backyard.

He grew up on RPGs and shooters and pretty much every respectable video game genre imaginable. Instead of focusing on mathematics and reading comprehension, his attention strayed to sharpening reaction times and hand-to-eye coordination and dexterity. Now he spends his days holed up in his room surrounded by his game collection, a mountain of snacks, and a mini fridge stocked full of energy drinks. His parents love to barge in nagging about how he does nothing but play useless games all day. He wants to tell them _they’re_ the ones who made him this way in the first place, but they shut their stupid mouths when he starts bringing in massive prize money checks by the tender age of 16.

All he has are his video games. He lives and breathes video games. Video games don't judge him, or nag him, or call him useless. Video games make everything better. All he needs to do is load up a console and snap his headset on and suddenly he’s transported to a world where he’s the hero and bullshit rules don’t exist. It's easy to drown out the noise of his family fighting when he’s landing flawless 360 No Scopes in Duty’s Call.

School is a waste of time—even a school like Hope’s Peak Academy—but it's an excuse for him to get out of the house. There's no reason for him to keep up his grades when he's already doing what he wants. Most days he'll just sit at the back of the class fiddling away on one of his handhelds.

Nobody bothers him and that suits him perfectly.

Yukizome-sensei claps her hands to grab the class’s attention. “Everyone, we have a new transfer student who will be joining our class starting today! I ask that you please welcome her and help her feel right at home! Peko-san, please come on in.”

For propriety's sake, Fuyuhiko spares a small glance over his handheld (because, honestly, he can play this game blindfolded if he has to) and immediately does a double take.

At the front of the class stands the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Everything about her exudes elegance. Her eyes are a striking red that could make a grown man weak. Her hair looks like starlight, silvery and shiny and plaited into twin ponytails. Her face is utter perfection: frosted pink lips, long lashes, rosy cheeks. She’s got a barely-there smile like she's hiding a very good secret. The thin-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose only enhance her sharp looks. She’s every bit the classic, feminine beauty, and yet she doesn’t look frail. She stands tall and poised like a heroine from a fantasy RPG.

For a second, he forgets to breathe.

Yukizome-sensei introduces their new classmate as the crown princess of a small island country off the coast of Japan. Her name is Peko Pekoyama, and she's bloody _gorgeous._

Startled, Fuyuhiko tugs his hoodie over his eyes when he realizes he's been staring.

 _What the fuck?_ He can hear the roar of his blood rushing in his ears. What the hell's wrong with him? Is he sick? Is he _dying?_ His face feels hot and his palms are sweaty and his heart won't stop hammering in his chest and—

He chances a look at the rest of the class. To his surprise, he doesn’t seem to be alone in his curiosity. Most of the guys (hell, some of the girls too) are staring at their new classmate in rapt wonder.

Peko bows politely at the waist, still touting that secretive half-smile. “I am pleased to make your acquaintances. I hope that you all will take good care of me.”

Yukizome-sensei directs her to an empty desk in the front row. For once, he curses his propensity to sit in the back. He can’t help but stare at the back of her head. She’s got these pretty white ribbons in her hair that just draw his eyes to the flawless plait of her starlight braids and when she turns he can see the way her lashes brush against her cheeks and _holy shit what the fuck is wrong with him._

For the remainder of class, and for once in his life, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu is absorbed in something entirely apart from his video games.

 

* * *

 

By the time their first class is over, everybody is already swarming around the newest addition to the school roster.

“How do you like Japan so far? Who taught you to speak Japanese so well?”

“Your skin is so fair, I love it!”

“What is your country like? Do they have a lot of good food there?”

“Does everybody in your country have eyes like yours? They’re such a pretty color.”

“You should sit with Ibuki during lunch today! We'll have so much fun together!”

Fuyuhiko hangs back awkwardly from the crowd. He's never been a part of the class, not really, and as much as he hates to admit it, having everybody gathered in a massive clump is ridiculously intimidating.

Despite his best attempt at blending into the shadows, his presence doesn't go unnoticed.

“Oh? Does Pintsize want to talk to the princess too?” Saionji sniggers behind her kimono sleeve. “Yeah, as if she'd want to talk to a smelly recluse like you.”

He scowls. “Go to hell.”

Saionji is unfazed, planting her fist against her hip. “Seriously though, I would've thought you'd crawl back under your rock by now. What the hell are you still doing here?”

“That's none of your fucking business.”

“Hah! What? We have a foreigner here and suddenly you're coming out into the sunlight like a normal human being! Don't tell me you've got a crush on her or something!” When Fuyuhiko stays silent, Saionji bursts into a fit of malicious laughter. “That's it, isn't it?! Oh my god! What a riot! A NEET in love with a princess!”

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Thankfully the rest of the class is too wrapped up in their new classmate to notice Saionji's antagonizing, but he’s still nonetheless flustered. “Fuck _off,_ bitch!” he barks, quickly shouldering his backpack and stomping out the classroom. Saionji's cackling rings in his ear like a goddamn fire alarm.

Fuck Saionji. Fuck everybody. He’s just feeling a little weird. He’s not head-over-heels in love with a princess. That’s _not_ it.

… Is it?

 

* * *

 

All right. So he likes a girl. Which has never really happened before and it should be ridiculous because he hasn’t even so much as _talked_ to her and yet the image of her pretty face keeps bouncing around in his head like he’s been hit with some sort of OP charm spell.

Which brings him to his biggest problem: He doesn’t know the first thing about girls.

He’s never really bothered trying to talk to _anybody_ before. He just sticks to the corner and most people know to avoid him. (And if they don’t, he’s quick to shoot them a “don’t you dare fuck with me _or else”_ glare.) None of his classmates are people he would consider his “friends,” and his family sure as hell isn’t any closer.

All he has are his video games.

Automatically he reaches for his handheld, seeking the comfort of the buttons and control pad. It's so much easier to collect his thoughts when things are familiar. The soothing click-click of the buttons. The weight of his thumb upon the D-pad. The blips and beeps and pings of his favorite game. The combination is enough to relax the tension coiling in his shoulders.

_Wait a minute._

Now that he thinks about it… Maybe he's not such a lost cause after-all. Sure, he may not have firsthand experience with girls, but he’s seen this story play out a million times before. Like when Marlow saves Princess Persimmon. Or when Klink saves Princess Selda. Or pretty much any other RPG he’s ever played.

Fight the bad guys. Gain experience. Level up. Beat the boss. Get the princess.

There’s no reason why something like this would be any different from a game, and there’s no game Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu hasn’t beat. It's _foolproof._

With newfound resolve, he stuffs his handheld into his backpack and hurries home.

And so begins Fuyuhiko’s epic quest for love.

 

* * *

 

The following day, Fuyuhiko finds himself at the school cafeteria peeking around the corner from the bathroom hallway. Being here during lunch is something foreign to him. Normally he just buys a sandwich from the vending machine and sits on a bench outside while he plays Pocketmon – he’ll do _anything_ to avoid human contact. The lunch crowd has always aggravated him, but today he has a very good reason for being here.

Peko Pekoyama sits at one of the cafeteria tables, delicately eating from a fancy lunch spread.

Beside him, the door to the kitchen opens and out pops the chef. “Peko-san, your darjeeling tea is coming right up!” Hanamura sings, skipping towards Peko's table balancing a tray of tea in his hands.

Fuyuhiko squints, sensing something amiss.

Hanamura has a mirror attached to his shoe.

The first step in his epic quest pops into his head. _Fight the bad guys._

“Hold it right there, bastard!” he hisses, grabbing the back of Hanamura's collar and yanking him back into the kitchen. Hanamura yelps, too startled to put up much of a fight, and whirls around in surprise.

“Ooh! Kuzuryuu-san! Did you want some of my special tea as well?” he chirps, holding up the tea he’s miraculously kept from spilling.

Fuyuhiko narrows his eyes, not missing the sleazy way Hanamura drawls out the word “special.” “The fuck? What the hell does that mean?”

“Ahhhh, just that it’s filled with all the vitamins and nutrients a budding young woman needs. Or a budding young man. I can guarantee, once you have a sip of this tea, you'll be begging for more.”

Half-disgusted and half-enraged, Fuyuhiko barks, “That’s _not_ what I’m here for! What I wanna know is why you have something like _this_ on your shoe!” He reaches down and yanks up Hanamura's mirror-outfitted foot, causing the chef to fall flat on his back.

Hanamura appears entirely unperturbed by his new position on the floor. (Fuyuhiko imagines he ends up down there on most days.) He merely rubs his chin. “You noticed that! Well, they do say variety is the spice of life, and something tells me the ice princess is hiding something of the naughty variety beneath her skirt. My guess is a thong. A black one, even! Heh heh… What do you think, Kuzuryuu-san?”

He has every reason to drop Hanamura into the garbage dumpster where he belongs and people would probably thank him for it. Instead he rips the mirror off Hanamura’s shoe and tosses it aside where it shatters into a million pieces. “You fucking perv! You better cut that shit out if you know what's good for you! Don't you dare try something like this again! Now get the hell outta my sight before I shove my foot up your ass!”

“But what about the tea—”

“JUST GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE, ASSHOLE!” Losing the last ounce of his patience, Fuyuhiko reels back and _punts_ Hanamura clear out the kitchen. Hanamura practically _soars_ , screeching “Selena Gomez!” on the way out.

God, what an asshole. But at least he got the mirror out of the way and Peko is safe. _This is easier than I thought._ Smugly, he exits the kitchen.

… And bumps straight into Mioda.

“Woah! It's Kuzuryuu! Are you going to join Peko for lunch too?” she exclaims, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

He chokes. “Wh-Why would I wanna do something like that?”

“Huh? But Ibuki never sees Kuzuryuu at the cafeteria. Isn't it because we have a princess in our class now?” As if sensing the eyes on her, Peko looks up from her lunch and turns in their direction curiously.

Fuyuhiko’s face heats up like a tea kettle. “I don't have time for this! Get lost!” He scampers away before Mioda can say anything else. He doesn't stop until he's around the corner and safely out of sight.

“Geez, that was close,” he murmurs aloud, wiping the sweat off his brow. He peeks around the corner again. Mioda has apparently ignored his departure, already sitting next to Peko and talking up a storm. That pervert Hanamura is nowhere to be seen.

Fuyuhiko grins to himself.

It really is as simple as a game.

 

* * *

 

With the first step of his quest out of the way, it’s time for him to move onto the next. _Gain experience_ is probably the most straightforward step, but it’s also the one he has the least knowledge in and he's not about to go randomly asking out girls to date him.

Which leaves him with the next best thing.

He does his research, and his research tells him the best-selling dating simulator is a game called Doki Doki Island. It’s supposed to be a “highly realistic dating experience” with full voice-acting and motion camera support. One trip to the game store later and Fuyuhiko holds the box in his hands, questioning his motives and how he ever got to this point.

It doesn’t help that the box art has the pinkest, brightest, girliest design he’s ever seen.

Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead playing a game like this. Sure he’s the Ultimate Gamer, but he still has an image to uphold. He has some of the highest win ratios in countless PVP leaderboards and playing a dating simulator would definitely hurt his tough guy persona.

_C’mon, it’ll be worth it. You’re going after a princess, after-all._

Gathering his courage, he marches up to the cash register and slaps the game onto the counter.

“Don't. Say. A fucking word,” he snarls at the store clerk. Luckily the poor guy takes the not-so-subtle hint and rings him up without question. Before the store clerk can ask if he wants his receipt in the bag, Fuyuhiko tucks the game beneath his arm and dashes out the store.

He takes the secluded route to get back home, far too mortified to let anybody see his most recent purchase. His mom doesn't even look up from her drama and TV dinner when he dashes up the stairs to his room.

It’ll be humiliating for his followers to see that he has a game called Doki Doki Island on his “Recently Played” list, but for now he’ll just have to swallow his pride. The game boots up playing a bright bubblegum intro with the most sickeningly sweet candy-pop song he’s ever heard and already he wants to throw up. The game lets him choose from five different girls to woo. He chooses the one he thinks looks the most like Peko (of course, a video game character could never compare) and begins.

It only takes him a few hours to reach the point where he's “going steady” with his choice. He doesn’t really understand how the whole thing works, but he gets the gist of it. Giving gifts raises his affection and when given the option to say something, he just chooses the one that doesn’t make him sound like an asshole or Hanamura.

 _<_ _I_ _…_ _I r-really like you!!_ _>_ Kotono stutters. (Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes. He’d hate to actually date someone who trips over her words every second.) _< I’ve liked you for a long time now_ _…_ _!_ _Ever since we’ve been on this island_ _…_ _I_ _…_ _I_ _want to be with you forever!_ _Please_ _…_ _>_

On the screen, Kotono leans in and puckers her lips. In the corner he sees a feed of himself captured through his motion camera. The instructions read, _< Place your face near the screen to give Koton_ _o_ _a kiss! >_

“You gotta be shitting me,” he deadpans. So _this_ is where the motion camera support comes in. No amount of button mashing will let him skip past the scene. The game really is forcing him to “kiss” his virtual girlfriend.

Kotono waits patiently with her lips still puckered.

 _Might as well get it over with._ It may be humiliating—fuck, it's downright _degrading_ —but a princess is worth the effort. He crawls on all fours towards the screen and hopes the motion camera is properly capturing his movements so he won't have to do this more than once.

The door to his room suddenly opens. “Hey, Fuyuhiko, do you know where the—”

Fuyuhiko whirls around and freezes when he sees his sister at the door. Natsumi’s mouth hangs open mid-sentence. She looks from him, to the TV screen, back to him. For a long moment, neither of them says anything. In the background, he can hear the game still playing its cheesy music box soundtrack. After what feels like an eternity, Natsumi slowly closes the door.

A solid ten seconds tick by before Fuyuhiko flops face-first onto the floor and feels his soul exiting his body.

_It’ll be worth it… It’ll be worth it… It’ll be worth it…_

 

* * *

 

The next step is the trickiest. _Level up_ could mean anything. In his experience, there are a myriad of ways to level up: completing quests, consuming items, defeating monsters. He’s already doing a quest, he doesn’t intend to binge-eat a shit ton of food, and learning how to fight is out of the question.

But there’s one constant when it comes to leveling up: Growth.

Fuyuhiko curses under his breath, suddenly reminded of his less-than-ideal stature; if he can’t grow physically, he’ll have to grow mentally.

He hits the books, diving into the academics he’s neglected for years. There's no doubt that this step has the most grind. His mind goes numb as he wades through equations and conjugations and historical dates. His desk, normally strewn with empty food wrappers, is covered with an array of papers and textbooks.

He resolves not to touch a single game until his grades improve, but that's far easier said than done. He finds his determination steadily waning with every chicken scratch of his pencil in his notebook, every flash card written in the name of education. Though his head is filled to the brim with an overload of knowledge, he catches himself gazing longingly at his consoles every few minutes.

_Maybe I could play just one game… Just for five minutes…_

His mom suddenly barges into his room balancing a laundry basket on her hip. Nobody ever knocks in this house.

“When are you going to do some studying instead of playing games all day?” she cracks, picking up dirty clothes off the floor.

“I _am_ studying,” he shoots back, not looking up from his textbook.

“Don't lie. You piss me off when you lie.”

He stops and shoves his notebook in her face. “What the hell do you think this is?!”

She eyes the notebook warily. Instead of looking satisfied, she curls her lip and scoffs, “Yeah? Well, why couldn’t you have started earlier? You've played video games for so long your brain's probably gone to mush. Don’t expect any awards with your intelligence. I can’t believe you’ve wasted so much time on useless games.”

Fuyuhiko sighs heavily and turns his attention back to his notebook. He presses his fingers to his temples and tunes out everything but what's in front of his nose. His mom continues yammering away in the background while he tries to sparse out the law of cosines.

(Nothing he does ever pleases them.)

At school, Yukizome-sensei walks up and down the rows, passing back the results of their latest exam. Fuyuhiko looks at the score circled in red on the top of his paper.

_71._

“Kuzuryuu-san, I'm surprised! You've really improved lately! If you keep applying yourself, you’ll have a bright future ahead of you!”

He bunches his shoulders up to his ears, oddly embarrassed. “Thanks, Yukizome-sensei.”

“Bet he cheated,” he overhears Saionji mutter to Koizumi. “He just sits in the corner playing games all year and suddenly he’s passing exams? If you ask me, he’s just doing all this because of Peko. The creep actually says he’s in lo—”

Panicking, Fuyuhiko grabs the closest thing he can get his hands on—a mechanical pencil—and flings it at the back of Saionji’s head.

“Ouch!” Saionji swivels around in her seat, clutching her head. “Which one of you did that?!”

Fuyuhiko points at Souda.

“Why you little—!”

“Huh?! What did I do?! _Augghhh!!”_

As Saionji pounces on Souda and yanks on his outrageously pink hair, Fuyuhiko snickers behind his hand.

_Level up complete._

 

* * *

 

The only place he ever finds Peko sitting alone is at the library. Normally she’s surrounded by a gaggle of admirers clamoring for her attention, but the librarian is strict about the rules and a noisy fan club is not allowed.

Which is why Fuyuhiko sits a table away, head buried behind a periodical, unknowingly holding it upside-down. Just being this close to Peko makes his pulse quicken. He's not going to actually talk to her or anything… yet. That's not part of the plan and he still has other steps to complete before he can get there.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a world-shaking _BOOM_ _BOOM BOOM_ echoes throughout the room. There’s a commotion happening somewhere that’s turbulent enough to rattle the library walls. He peeks over his periodical again and notices he’s not the only one who hears it. Peko is looking back and forth between her book and the ceiling, appearing perturbed. The librarian also looks annoyed, but resigned, and she makes no move to remedy the problem.

If he could get rid of whatever was making so much noise, maybe it’d help his chances.

He tracks the noise to the school dojo all the way up on the fifth floor. He’s unsurprised to see Nidai and Owari duking it out, fists and feet flying everywhere. (Only they would be able to cause a disturbance loud enough to reach the second floor.) They're both positively _guttural,_ charging at each other with animalistic ferocity. Nidai lands a blow so forceful Owari crashes against one of the cherry blossom trees. Cherry blossom petals scatter about in a pale pink storm that is only energized by the two powerful combatants battling like their lives depend on it.

Just watching them makes him want to shrink back against the wallpaper before they notice him, but Fuyuhiko loudly clears his throat and hopes it's enough to catch their attention. “So you two are the ones making all that racket. I should have known.”

They stop.

“Old man, look! It’s Kuzuryuu!” Owari hollers, wiping honest-to-god _blood_ off her brow.

“Kuzuryuu? Yo!” The bruises on Nidai’s knuckles stand stark against his skin as he waves.

Owari slaps Fuyuhiko on the back in a gesture he _thinks_ is meant to be friendly, but it ends up knocking the wind out of him. “We don’t normally see you up here, Kuzuryuu. Did you come to spar with us?”

Nidai's eyes brighten. “That's a great idea! I’m glad to see you finally taking some initiative! With my coaching, we can turn your noodly little arms into weapons of steel in no time!”

“N-No,” Fuyuhiko splutters, trying to catch his breath. “You're making a lot of noise with whatever you're doing. I’m here to tell you to keep it down. Uh, please.”

Nidai guffaws.

“Sorry, friend, but no can do!”

Fuyuhiko’s face falls.

“The old man’s right. Ain’t no chance we’re doing that. The school sports festival is coming up, and I gotta be in top shape if I wanna _destroy_ the competition. Looks like you’ll just have to deal.” She scratches at where the drying blood is still caked along her temple. “That is, unless you wanna _challenge_ me!” She punches her fist into her palm, and Fuyuhiko can make out the pronounced contours of her muscles against her tanned skin.

He instinctively takes a step back. Owari looks like she wants to devour him and Nidai doesn't have to do much to look intimidating, but together they're fucking terrifying.

The most important step in his quest pops up in his head. The one step that proves he deserves to be the hero with a princess by his side. _Beat the boss._ Well, if there were ever a word for it, that’s how he would describe Owari and Nidai. The story has the best ending when the hero from humble origins manages to defeat the bigger and tougher enemy.

Somewhere deep, deep down Fuyuhiko grabs ahold of something akin to courage and puffs up his chest. “A-All right! If that’s the way it has to be, I challenge you!”

Owari grins and rolls back her shoulders.

“… to Super Punch Brothers!”

Her grin drops. “… Huh?”

“Here.” He digs out two handhelds from his backpack and hands one to her. “Pick your character and we'll settle this.”

Owari scrunches her nose, holding up the handheld between two fingers like it's some sort of diseased animal. “Old man, you ever play one of these things before?”

Nidai strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmm… No, can't say I have.”

“Kuzuryuu, you play this lame thing all day?”

He chokes, “It's not lame! _It's based on skill!_ Do you realize the endless hours necessary to perfect a neutral-air footstool B-air lock neutral-air up-smash combo? You gotta be able to gauge your opponent’s moves and adjust your own tactics accordingly. Reaction times are _key._ There’s no satisfaction greater than launching your foe clear across the stage in a perfectly executed finisher. One wrong move and you're outta there!”

Owari's brow creases. “Yeah, but… can’t we just, like, _fight?_ I mean, you gotta admit, it’s kinda weird to like some game over the real thing.”

“ _Are you fucking kidding me?!”_ It feels like he’s just ruptured a blood vessel. “‘Some game?’ _‘_ _Some game?!’_ Super Punch Brothers is a fucking benchmark in gaming history! Without Super Punch Brothers, the fighting game genre would’ve been stagnant with the seldom Street Brawler and Tonkin rehash every blue moon! Not to mention the massive audience appeal of being able to play your favorite classic video game heroes! There are national tournaments dedicated to this game every year, sometimes _multiple_ times a year, and people from all over the world come to compete! I've won over 16,000,000 yen from kicking people's asses in Super Punch Brothers!”

Owari looks as though she'd sooner jump into a lake full of crocodiles. She picks at her ear with her pinky and yawns. “Ehhh. That sounds too complicated. Not interested. I’m hungry. Let’s go get lunch, old man.”

She tosses the handheld back to him, muttering something about how her stomach is about to cave in on itself. They both brush past him on the way out the door. Fuyuhiko silently watches them leave. Nidai’s booming laughter can be heard drifting all the way down the hall.

A forfeit is technically a victory, right?

Gleefully, he tromps back down to the library, taking the steps two at a time. If he’s defeated the boss, that means he’s at the final step. The one he’s been waiting for.

_Get the princess._

_Get the princess!!_

He skids to a stop at the library entrance. Peko is still where he left her, quietly paging through her animal encyclopedia. Squaring his shoulders (and first making sure he looks okay), he steps up to the table and clears his throat.

She looks up, meets his eyes.

“I took care of the noise for you,” he says with as suave of a smile as he can manage. “They won’t be bothering you anymore.”

She smiles back, plush pink lips curving up ever so slightly, and his heart instantly skips a beat.

“I see. Yes, thank you,” she says and goes back to reading her book.

He waits.

One…

Two…

Three…

… Nothing. She just keeps reading her book.

“… Is that… is that it?!” he stammers.

She looks up again, blinking in surprise. “Is there something else you need?”

His hands curl into fists at his sides. “Aren’t you going to… to…”

 _Kiss me?_ _Date me?_ _Love me?_ As soon as the words cross his mind, he realizes how utterly and totally ridiculous they sound.

On the other hand, Peko is looking more and more bewildered. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Can you explain?” she insists.

Fuyuhiko feels his face heating up from a mixture of frustration and humiliation. He grits his teeth and digs his fingernails into his palms. His eyes are swimming and his heart is pounding in his chest like it wants to bust straight through his ribcage. The realization of his struggles and the futility of it all hit him like a freight train and suddenly it’s all too much. He'd give anything for the ground to swallow him up right now, but all he can manage is a choked, “Nothing! Forget it! Nevermind!”

He runs out of the library and hopes to god he doesn't look as foolish as he feels.

 

* * *

 

Fuyuhiko doesn't know where he’s going or how he gets there but somehow he ends up by a bench on the secluded end of the school. He feels delirious, hanging on that precarious balance between drained and defeated. His head is full and _he’s not going to cry goddammit_ but _fuck_ does he feel like a huge steaming pile of shit.

This wasn’t part of the plan. Everything was going fine until it was her turn to respond. Then the plan started unraveling beneath his fingertips and he hadn’t the courage nor the foresight to do anything about it. All he could do was sit there like an idiot and watch it happen.

He didn’t realize he was this useless.

_Does she even know my name?_

It’s like an illness, a parasite that niggles away at his brain until he’s left with a broken fantasy and a fraction of the determination than when he started. He collapses onto the bench and slumps against the wall, rough brick scratching at the worn fabric of his sweater.

Maybe sometimes… No matter how hard you try…

Sometimes… you don't get the princess…?

He stares at his hands, feeling like he’s just woken up from a dream. (Or maybe it’s more accurate to call it a terrible nightmare.)

There must have been a reason for all this. What did he like about her again? She's beautiful and gorgeous and pretty and…

… He struggles to come up with anything else.

“… Am I really that fucking shallow?!”

Reality comes crashing down on him. Fuyuhiko clutches at his head, digging his fingernails into his scalp. What was he thinking using some video game strategy to get a girl he knows nothing about?! Of course she wouldn’t fall in love with him. Of course she would know better. She’s not an achievement. She's not something owed to him for working hard. She’s a _human being._ Just like him.

Fuyuhiko groans and thumps his head against the wall over and over again. “Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!”

Every hit of his head against the brick throbs dully in his nerves. Eventually the relentless thumping leaves him so dizzy he's forced to stop, slumped up against the wall. No drive. No energy. No nothing.

… _I guess… I can’t depend on my video games after-all._

He doesn’t know for how long he sits there but he’s startled out of his thoughts when he hears the sound of rustling nearby. Out of nowhere, Peko Pekoyama bursts forth from the bushes, gasping for air. She looks frazzled and she’s holding her shoes in her hand.

They lock eyes.

“Oh—!” she exclaims, eyes wide. Frantically, she plops down her shoes and hurries to toe into them. “Pardon me. I didn't think anybody was here. I was just—” In her haste, she nearly slips and falls on the dampened dirt.

“Woah, woah, calm down!” he sputters, waving his hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course. I'm fine,” she murmurs, still trying to put on her shoes.

He looks her up and down, not to be sleazy, but to take in her demeanor. He’s never seen her so out of sorts before. He gets the feeling this isn’t something he was meant to witness. “You don’t look fine. Sorry, that came out bad. I mean, you look exhausted.”

“No!” she snaps defensively. He gives her a dubious look and her expression turns solemn. “I suppose I am feeling a bit… under the weather. But that is a negligible matter. I must always look my best so as not to worry my fellow classmates. That is my duty as a princess.”

Fuyuhiko purses his lips into a thin line. “Sounds shitty to me. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t know anything about that, but you look like you should at least take a break. You can just sit here and shoot the shit or whatever.”

Peko furrows her brow. “‘Shoot the shit’…?” she repeats.

“Yeah, you know. Like… just hang out, or something.” He gestures to the bench he's sitting on. “Your choice.”

She still looks wary, but curious. Cautiously, she approaches the bench and sits down on the other end. She stares at him silently, as if expecting something from him.

He starts. “Oh, fuck, sorry! I’ll leave—”

She waves a hand. “Please. I would enjoy the company.”

Awkwardly, he sits back down.

They sit in silence for a few minutes more, neither truly knowing what to do or say.

Finally, Peko clears her throat. “I feel as though I must apologize to you. I believe I must have upset you earlier, but I’m afraid I do not know for what reason.”

The memories of his miserable quest rise up. “… Oh. That. Uhhh… Listen, don’t worry about it, okay?”

She looks unsatisfied. “I should at least get your name.”

“It’s Kuzuryuu. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu.”

“I am honored to meet you, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. I am Peko Pekoyama.”

He smiles. (That’s one thing off his mind, at least.) “Nice to meet you too,” he says. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, do you wanna talk about what’s got you so upset? I mean, I’m not really good at this, but I can listen. If you want.”

Peko sucks in a big breath and lets it all out in one long exhale. She’s silent for a long stretch of time. He waits for her to speak. “Adjusting to life here has been a bit… overwhelming. It is very tiring, being who people want you to be.”

“Is that what you go through?” he asks, quirking a brow.

“Yes. Ah— but I do not mean to complain. My people always come first. Besides, I should be grateful that my path has been laid out before me. Many people spend a lifetime wondering what they should be. Some of us are destined to be nothing more than a product for the public eye to admire.”

That thought alone is enough to make him sad. He's suddenly reminded of his parents and their incessant need for him to be somebody worthwhile. “You shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says quietly.

She looks at him with a curious eye. “Is that what you do?”

“Yeah. My parents want me to be a lawyer or a doctor or some shit, but fuck that. I’ll be who I damn well please. I mean, as long as I'm happy, what the fuck does it matter what everyone else thinks, y'know?”

“I am a bit envious of you, then. I don’t remember the last time I didn’t have to worry about looking presentable. Every minute I fret over my posture, the angle of my chin, which side of me will photograph best. Whether I look too serious. Whether I don’t look serious enough.”

It’s just as she says. Even now she’s sitting prim and proper, back straight, fingers laced… but there’s also something stiff about it. Statuesque. Like she’s been specifically molded to look this way. He feels his heart drop to his feet. How could he have not noticed it before?

Before he knows it, he’s quoting one of his favorite games, “We all make choices in life, but in the end our choices make us. A man chooses, a slave obeys. No gods or kings. Only man.”

Immediately he regrets his decision. He doesn’t expect her to understand. If anything, she might think him creepy (which, to be fair, he probably deserves), but instead of looking confused, she tilts her head and asks, “You mean like in The Blackbird and the Hare?”

His eyes widen. “You know that game?”

She smiles, and it’s nothing like her small secretive half-smile. It’s the kind of smile that lights up her whole face like she’s swallowed the sun and she’s glowing from the inside out. “Yes!” she enthuses. “It was my favorite game as a child. I used to play it all the time before—” She seems to catch herself and her expression sobers a bit. “—before I became too busy with my duties. Sometimes I would spend hours just leveling up the animal companions. Alas, if only I'd been able to defeat the Shadow Soldier. But I could never find the Crimson Sword.”

“There’s a room off to the left after you defeat the Seven Shades,” he answers seamlessly. “There’s an artifact there that will help you summon the Crimson Sword. It’s the most powerful weapon in the game.”

Peko blinks, clearly surprised. “You must know a lot,” she says.

“The Blackbird and the Hare is one of my favorites too! I even bought the limited edition remastered collection they released last year. It came with all three games from the series, and some bonus material too. I mean, not to brag, but I’ve probably beat that game like 50 times. I just can’t get enough of it, y’know?”

He trails off sheepishly when he notices the look she’s giving him. She stares at him with stars in her eyes like she thinks he’s the answer to some question he doesn’t remember her asking.

That fluttery feeling in his stomach comes back to plague his senses again, unbidden, and he tries valiantly to shove it back into the recesses of his mind where it belongs. Thankfully, her gaze moves to her lap. She looks deep in thought. Her fingers pick at the fabric of her skirt and she worries at her bottom lip. Finally, she looks at him and asks, “If you could… Would you show me?”

His cheeks grow warm. “Y-Yeah, if you want.”

That’s how he finds himself with a princess playing video games in his room.

Peko actually makes it to his place with little fanfare. His parents are too starstruck from having literal royalty under their roof to argue, and even Natsumi has the decency to keep to herself.

He boots up The Blackbird and the Hare on his Playstadium. They take turns passing around the controller, but Peko enjoys watching just as much as she does playing. He lets her take control for the fight against the Shadow Soldier. She's _ecstatic_ when she manages to beat it. He swears she tears up a bit as she watches the ending scene, but before he can say anything about it, she wipes her eyes, thanks him for the game, and goes home.

At first he thinks that’s it, that’s the end of his quest, there’s nothing else between them. Mission failed and he rightfully deserves it. But the next day, to the amazement of him and his classmates, Peko approaches his desk and asks if he'd like to “shoot the shit” after school.

Of-fucking-course he says yes.

She comes over whenever she can make the excuse. (That ends up being nearly everyday.) He introduces her to other games besides The Blackbird and the Hare, games he think she might like, from puzzle games to sports games to first-person shooters. She’s eager to try them all.

He knows all these games like the back of his hand, so he can divert enough of his attention away from the screen to note all the little quirks and habits about Peko he hadn’t noticed before, like the way she jiggles her leg when she’s about to go in for the kill, or how high-pitched she squeaks when he warns her there are more bad guys coming in from the left, or the murderous tone in her voice when she screams “HAVE AT YOU!” as she nails a perfect headshot. It’s enough to make him double over in laughter – _genuine_ laughter, the first he’s had in years – and when Peko asks him what’s so funny, he shakes his head and picks up his controller again.

Maybe it’s not so bad that he has his video games.

Maybe he doesn't get the princess.

It doesn’t matter because whatever the outcome, he’s already treasuring the experience.

 

* * *

 

Level One. Start.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments/kudos are greatly appreciated.
> 
> If you liked what you read, please consider following me on my tumblr for future stories, artwork, and more. Check it out @ thewildwilds.tumblr.com
> 
> “… over 16,000,000 yen…” – Approximately 157,000 USD. The largest prize pool for a Super Smash Brothers tournament to date is 26,620 USD.
> 
> “We all make choices in life, but in the end our choices make us. A man chooses, a slave obeys. No gods or kings. Only man.” – These are actually quotes from the game BioShock.
> 
> “You mean like in The Blackbird and the Hare?” – A shameless plug, The Blackbird and the Hare is the working title of the Fate/stay night AU I’m writing. It’ll have Kuzupeko, Sondam, and more. I hope you look forward to it!


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